Siesta: Now That's An Idea We Can Get Behind

I’ll be taking The Cousin out for a day on the town later this week. He is visiting from out-of-state and, being a man of eclectic tastes, he’s all about touring downtown Nashville and then driving around to see where his country music heroes live. I will do my best to be an adequate tour guide, but since my knowledge of the subject extends only as far as the children of famous people with whom I used to ride the school bus, he might be in for a disappointing afternoon.

But here’s what will make it interesting: while my cousin and I share a common maternal ancestry, we couldn’t look much more different. We both take after our fathers, so that means I am a super-white honky who can glow in the dark, while he inherited the rich coloring of his Mexican and Native American ancestors. And because he lives in inner-city Los Angeles, he has that urban, streetwise look, if you know what I mean. And I think you do. He is a big Spanish-speaking fella with large tattoos and a dark complexion, and his appearance alone spells “hoodlum” to a lot of middle-American folks. He is the person that People Who Love America are trying to protect our society from, because if we don’t do something quick, before you know it we’ll all be forced to eat tamales and smash piñatas, the English language will disappear from the face of the earth, and then the terrorists will have won, people!

Anyway, he has his heart set on taking a tour of the Ryman Auditorium, and I’m already looking forward to the reaction we’ll get from the tour guide when big Hispanic dude with skull tattoos walks in to the Mecca of country music. The "gangsta" who knows more about bluegrass than should be allowed by law will school them on all the country music greats, while Little Miss Caucasian asks if Pearl Jam ever stood on that stage and if so, could she please smell Eddie Vedder’s dressing room?

Ah, this is going to be good times.